Holiday Break-Out
On this Memorial Day weekend, we, as a nation, obviously — and in my view, unfortunately — have decided that “enough is enough,” when it comes to trying to contain the coronavirus outbreak.
We have decided that we no longer want to stay inside. We no longer desire to wear masks. We are salivating at the prospect of eating in restaurants, drinking in bars, and generally doing whatever we want to do, regardless of the potential health risks to ourselves or others.
By this weekend, all of our states had decided, to various extents, that they no longer could continue the restrictions they previously had imposed. Even here in California, our governor — who had been in the forefront of efforts to try to keep us from infecting each other — has pretty much thrown in the towel in terms of restrictions.
Beaches are open, restaurants in most parts of our state are now providing inside dining, and about the only things not open are barber shops and beauty salons. (But never fear — they’ll soon get the green light to throw open their doors, as well.)
I drove through our Central Coast city’s downtown this Saturday afternoon. I was not at all surprised to see every parking spot filled — and our streets jammed with what were undoubtedly tourists, blissfully walking along without masks, without social distancing, without a care in the world. A pandemic? That’s sooo yesterday.
Far be it from me to criticize or question these re-opening decisions, and the decisions by people who have thrown caution to the wind. I do think, however, that it’s unfortunate that this pandemic has fallen right into the same political argument that has infected our national and local governance.
Can nothing — nothing — “bring us together” anymore? The answer is simple: no.
So — with the decision-making about how we’re going to handle the coronavirus behind us — we’re just going to re-open and to heck with who gets sick — it’s time to move on. But before we do — I want to pose a question: What did YOU do, during this Springtime of our Discontent — during our coronavirus-imposed “vacation” from normal procedures?
I know, I know – some of you have stayed inside quite willingly, enjoying catching up on those streaming TV series you didn’t have the time or inclination to watch before the virus swept into our midst. Others of you have, perhaps, taken up new hobbies – or resumed old ones, such as sewing, or doing puzzles, or even – gasp! – reading books.
Well, I’ll have you know – I did not take up puzzles. I can’t sew. Yes, I did some TV watching (in fact, I actually saw, for the first time, Game 7 of the 1965 World Series – in black-and-white – where the great Sandy Koufax shut out the Minnesota Twins on just two days’ rest to win the Series for the Dodgers. That was a “wowser” discovery, indeed.) And, yes, I did some reading.
But what was most memorable for me during our coronavirus “pause” – was music. Years ago, my old buddy and colleague at KMJ Radio in Fresno – Mark Holste – had kindly burned CD’s for me of some top pop hits from the years 1959 to 1975 – one CD for each year. Well, because I had more time than usual over these past weeks – and fewer places to go – I popped some of those babies into my CD player – and lo and behold, what came out of the speakers was, in a word, wonderful.
Imagine hearing, as I did, John Lennon’s “Imagine” (1971) again. Or Roberta Flack’s “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” (1972). Or Ray Price singing, memorably and forever, “You’re the Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me,” as he did back in ’73 – which happened, by the way, to be a great year for pop music. That was, after all, the year when Tony Orlando immortally sang about that “Yellow Ribbon Around the Old Oak Tree,” the year John Denver created indelible images with his “Rocky Mountain High,” and when the great Jim Croce sang about that “Bad, Bad, LeRoy Brown.”
But 1974 was no slouch. It brought us Billy Joel’s never-to-be-forgotten “Piano Man,” while the Carpenters stayed on top of the musical world with, yes, “Top of the World.” And love was breaking out all over in that musical world of ’74 – with Roberta Flack singing about what made her “Feel Like Making Love,” while Olivia Newton-John made us all quiver with her “I Honestly Love You.”
Now, lest you think that all this looking-backward musical stuff might – just might – possibly indicate that I’m not “with” the current scene – musical or otherwise – let me be the first to confirm it. Not only am I not “with it” – I’m nowhere near it. But don’t get me wrong – I haven’t always been “out of it.” Indeed, I used to be quite “hip” and amazingly “up-to-the-moment” – thank you very much.
Yes, indeed, “way back” I was completely up-to-date on the latest men’s fashions, for example. If wide, wild ties were “in,” I had them. If plaid pants were “hot,” I was hotter. When long hair and mustaches were the rage for every young man back in the ’70s – there I was, young and long-haired and mustachioed. And to tell the truth (or some semblance of it, anyway) – when I looked into the mirror, the guy who peered back at me looked pretty darn good.
And when it came to pop culture – baby, I lived it and loved it. Any time a “must-see” movie opened, I was there to see it, often on opening day or night. A new, hip, hot book coming out? I bought it, and more than that, I usually read it. As for music back then – when the songs actually had lyrics that said something with arrangements that allowed you to actually hear those words – I not only listened, I learned the words. And as for the latest and greatest TV shows of that era – if anyone was talking about them, I was watching them.
But that was then – way, way back then – in the ’60s and ’70s. And now here we are – here I am – in this highfalutin’ 21st Century – and I seem to have – how do I put this? – lost my interest in being “with it.” I no longer know, or care about, what “fashionable” men are wearing these days. I no longer look around to see if long hair and mustaches are “things.” I have no earthly idea what’s “hot” in music these days – or in books – or in TV shows. And furthermore, I don’t give a fig about any of it.
Nowadays, when I drive down streets in any city or town – especially cities or towns where I “have history” – I often look past what’s there and remember what USED to be there. And generally, I am saddened that so many great, historic old buildings have been demolished to make way for new, hip, modern facades that have no absolutely no character – or anything that can stand any test of time. They’re just “buildings” – new ones that smell and look nice, but which are indistinguishable from a thousand other structures just like them.
And when I’m in my car, driving past these “nothing” new structures – I’m not listening to music of the present. No, sir – I’m most likely playing those CD’s of artists I grew up and older with. I make my own in-car “concert.”
In addition to those CD’s that Mark made for me, I have CD’s another ex-KMJ buddy – Jim Wilson – created for me. He’s a jazz buff – and he burned CD’s of legends like Brubeck, Tjader, Miles Davis, Shelly Manne – many of them recorded live at the late, great Black Hawk night club at Turk and Hyde in San Francisco. And, of course, no man of my age can afford to go without CD’s from the Greatest Pop Voices of Them All – so I have plenty of Sinatra in the car, as well as Ella and Bennett.
As for TV of the present day – sorry, most of it doesn’t interest me. I’m certainly not going to waste any time watching the haters and screamers on cable TV “news” channels. And I have zero interest in any of those “reality TV” shows that excite so many folks. Believe it or not, I’ve never seen more than 10 minutes – total – of The Bachelor or The Amazing Race or Survivor. I know, I know – I’m culturally depriving myself, but that’s a burden I’ll simply have to bear.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t begrudge all those Young People who are now “with it” the way I used to be – after all, they’re just doing the same things NOW that I used to do THEN. More power to them. One day, if they’re lucky, they’ll get as old as I am now. But for the present – MY present – I’m quite comfortable living in the past, and I certainly have plenty of that.
So, yes, I spent much of my coronavirus “break” by listening to “my kind” of music. What I re-discovered – because I must have known this “way back when” – is that, simply, there’s magic – in music. How much magic? Well, all I can tell you is, when I play a particular lovely piece by the exquisite Karen Carpenter – one she made in ’73 – it’s “Yesterday Once More” for me. And I liked yesterday. A lot.